


Solo Chess

by casey_ferguson



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Board Games, Card Games, Crack, Dejarik, Emperor Kylo Ren, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Choking, Force Ghosts, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Redemption, Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Mustafar, POV Hux, POV Kylo Ren, Post-Canon, Reylo - Freeform, Shah-tezh, The Dark Side of the Force, Treason, radar technician, sexbot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 17:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey_ferguson/pseuds/casey_ferguson
Summary: In the weeks after the Battle of Crait, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's temper begins to simmer down as he realizes he has the power to do whatever he wants. As far as General Hux can tell, what he wants to do is...play board games?This fic follows Kylo Ren as he faces his (literal and figurative) ghosts and decides where he wants the galaxy to go. Generally attempting to be canon-compliant. Not super dark since the premise is that most of the evil was coming from Snoke.





	1. Into the Archives

The Supreme Leader is obsessed with dejarik. It started a few weeks after the Battle of Crait, Hux recalls. Those first three weeks had been…difficult. The new Supreme Leader had seen fit to consolidate his power using the same brutal enforcer tactics he had been conditioned to deploy during the Snoke era. There were many Force chokings (Hux’ own windpipe had been assaulted no less than four times, he recalls ruefully but meticulously). Two separate TIE fighters were dismantled in mid-air. Much of the _Finalizer_ was redecorated with a lightsaber. Eighteen droids, two stormtroopers and five junior officers who showed some sign of preferring life under Snoke were dismembered. In this, the senior officers had the advantage; any who had been unable to work around the Master of the Knights of Ren had already either been killed or given assignments on distant Star Destroyers. Hux imagines things will not be pretty when the time comes to bring some of them back into the fold. For now, everyone seems to be in suspended animation as they assess the new Leader.

In the second week after the battle, Ren had seemed to have some sort of an epiphany that more was now expected of him. He began to spend his afternoons closeted in the archives, among Sith holocrons and Imperial-era strategy tomes. (Mornings were still reserved for destroying training rooms or other parts of the ship.) After a few days of this routine he emerged from the library clutching a dusty, old, but high-quality holographic dejarik set. The droids cleaned it and set it up on the table at one side of his stateroom, in front of a large viewport. Two chairs were arranged one on either side of the table. Hux hoped he would not be called upon to play dejarik with Ren in his chambers; if memory served, the Supreme Leader was not a particularly excellent player, and was an undoubtedly terrible loser.

Luckily, Hux is not requested to play. In fact, as far as he can tell, no one is ever asked to play. Perhaps Ren is just playing through great historical games? Facing off against the set in droid mode? One evening in the third week after Crait, Hux is summoned to the Supreme Leader’s rooms to debrief about the response to an explosion that breached the hull of one of the other generals’ Star Destroyers, the _Conqueror_. Kylo Ren is sprawled across one of the chairs, smiling as his savrip demolishes an opposing piece. A blue indicator light flashes as the computer opponent prepares its move. “Your report?” Ren asks, deigning to face Hux and take his eyes off the board.

Hux launches into an incident report, detailing the speed of emergency response, areas for improvement, and lasting damage that would require repair.

“Is there any indication of the cause?” Ren asks impassively.

“Initial scans, Supreme Leader, suggest that nothing was wrong with the Star Destroyer’s systems a week ago. Barring some sort of freak radiation or electromagnetic incident, it seems quite possible that the destruction is the work of a saboteur. However, no out-of-place chemical residue has been identified as yet,” Hux swallows, not eager to stand here delivering bad news. He dares to break eye contact with Ren, glancing aside at the game board.

“Well, that settles it, then. You and I will pay a visit to the _Conqueror_ ourselves. Most investigations become more…focused after an appropriate application of the Force.” Hux feels the blood drain from his face as he notices Ren cracking his knuckles absent-mindedly, flexing the long fingers in the black leather gloves.

“Sir…Supreme Leader…I will arrange it as you wish.” Hux turns and leaves the room quickly.

*****************************

The general helming the _Conqueror_ has never been an ally for Kylo Ren. And yet, the inspection proves a success. This might have something to do with the new Supreme Leader’s growing mystique.

When Hux had charged into Snoke’s throne room, only to discover a segmented Supreme Leader and a discombobulated Kylo Ren, he had accepted Ren’s assertion that the girl Jedi killed Snoke. Resistance action was the most logical explanation, even if upstart rebels had never been so successful before at overthrowing a Dark Lord. (Even Luke Skywalker was just capitalizing on Sith succession dynamics when he ousted Palpatine with Vader’s aid.)

But before long, the rumors started that all was not as it seemed. Hux had had the bodies of Snoke and his guards removed from the Supremacy in the hope of discovering some clue that they could use to hunt down the assassin. The mortuary staff did their job thoroughly. They immediately came to the realization that two different lightsabers had been involved in slaughtering the Praetorian Guards. Some bright bulb put two and two together and confronted Ren about his participation in the murder of Snoke; that officer lived for exactly another 13.6 seconds.

Since everyone now knows that the Supreme Leader overpowered and killed Snoke (with the assistance of a girl Jedi who has mysteriously never been seen again), and that He does not wish anyone to speak about it, it has become the primary topic of gossip throughout the First Order fleet. The new Supreme Leader’s powers become more and more outlandish with each telling.

******************************

When he steps aboard the _Conqueror_ with Hux at heel, an impressive complement of officers and stormtroopers are drawn up to bid him welcome. He senses the frisson of surprise that moves through the ranks as they see their new Supreme Leader for the first time, and without his mask.

He addresses them in his customary laconic manner, his voice low enough that it surprises Hux that they all seem to hear him. Mind tricks, that must be it.

The troops are dismissed and return to their regular posts. Ren turns to General Maigal, and cuts to the chase.

“Please inform me of everything that occurred in the lead-up to the explosion. Take care not to omit anything. I don’t want to have to interrogate my own general.”

Hah, thinks Hux. Interrogating generals is one of Ren’s favorite hobbies. Though, Hux supposes he has built up the ability to shield his own thoughts by now. A useful skill.

Maigal leads the Supreme Leader to the command center and reviews the security tapes and crew records from the sector where the incident occurred. “We noticed that one of the tapes cuts out shortly before the incident, and it’s possible it was sabotage,” he notes, indicating the moments in question. A short female officer with cropped black hair walks swiftly past the camera, looking away to speak into a comm concealed in her fist. Moments later, the camera ceases functioning. “Visuals on this …officer do not match crew records, and inspection revealed that camera had been subjected to a localized electromagnetic pulse. We’ve worked up a physiological profile on the suspicious officer, and it matches someone in the index file of First Order disciplinary records from the final day of operation of the Supremacy. However, as you are no doubt aware, the contents of those records were destroyed in the incident and had not yet been backed up to offsite storage. Tapes from some of the other cameras in the vicinity show nothing unusual, but have brief episodes of static around the time of the incident.”

“Let us proceed to the location of the damage.” Ren has been examining Maigal’s face, and appears satisfied with his account of the sabotage. They walk through the halls of the star destroyer, Ren’s impatient strides forcing the two generals to exert themselves to keep up.

A door slides open to Maigal’s security code and they enter, after the commandant points out the damaged security camera. The chamber within is littered with twisted durasteel and shattered glass. The heap of wreckage reminds Hux momentarily of a command center after Ren has gotten angry about something. Just then the Supreme Leader catches his eye and Hux starts. Perhaps he congratulated himself on his mental barriers too soon.

A large viewport is shuttered with blast shields. “I haven’t replaced the viewport, since we awaited your guidance, Supreme Leader,” Maigal mentions. “It was blown clean out. As far as we can tell, in the explosion that pulverized everything else in this room.”

“Were there any casualties? Is there a strategic importance to this room?” Ren queries.

“No casualties; the compartment is rarely used. That pile of scrap over there is a projection device, as you no doubt are aware. The cabinets surrounding it used to contain a small collection of the, ah, former Supreme Leader’s preferred Sith holocrons. We surmise that the pressurization changes in the room after the explosion caused all small objects — including the library contents and the explosive device itself — to be sucked into space. If the device was not on a timer, the saboteur would have suffered the same fate.”

Ren had left Maigal’s side and was stalking the room, looking as if he were trying to commune with the essence of the Sith images that had once played there. He stops by an enormous sheet of twisted metal. “You suffered a saboteur, all right,” the Supreme Leader’s visage is black and glowering, “but you will not find any explosive device. There was none.” He raises his hand and crumples the fingers into a fist, at which gesture all the twisted steel plates compliantly fold themselves into a large ball at the center of the room. Maigal ducks his head involuntarily as a sheet of durasteel flies past. Ren crouches down on the floor next to the wall, examining a series of burns and scratches that had been hidden by the debris.

He points out what Hux realizes with a start is clearly lightsaber damage. “She signed her work with an old Jedi symbol.” He pauses. “And she made off with MY KRIFFING HOLOCRONS!!!” Ren raises his hand again, and this time all the remaining undamaged panels pop off the walls with a crash. The blood drains from the faces of the two generals, but the Supreme Leader storms through the door without assaulting anyone. Hux follows him back to the shuttle almost at a run.

Shortly before docking at the _Finalizer_ , Ren summons a reluctant Hux to his compartment on the shuttle. Only one wall is smoking with new lightsaber damage, which gives Hux some hope of survival.

“Take an inventory of Force-related archival material throughout First Order ships, structures, and allied systems,” Ren commands in a clipped voice. “She knows that my knowledge is my strength. I do not wish to be crippled by poor record-keeping; give me full control over all my assets.

“Also monitor all transmissions from the _Conqueror_. We need to know if the Resistance has someone on the inside.” Hux nods a second time.

“Well.” Ren pauses. “General Maigal was a more loyal servant than I anticipated. Sign off on whatever requisitions he needs for the repairs.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux agrees, then pauses. He has a number of burning questions, but hesitates to raise the issue further.

“You’re still here, Hux. What’s the problem?” Ren snaps.

“I have, uh, some unanswered questions about the sabotage,” Hux ventures. “Many, in fact. But I don’t wish to bother the…Supreme Leader,” he gulps.

“Spit it out.”

“Well, when the library depressurized, how did the saboteur escape? And why didn’t any other cameras pick her up?”

The Supreme Leader sighs. “That wasn’t the Jedi in the security feed.” Hux is puzzled, so Ren continues. “There was a team of saboteurs. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cleaning droids choke on Wookiee fur. Unless that rat bastard who shot me was piloting the piece of junk that was no doubt waiting to pick up the inside team when they burst through the viewport with their new holocrons.”

“It still seems rather…unbelievable.”

“Since when, Hux, have you ever believed anything to do with the Force if it isn’t crushing your neck?”

Hux has never heard of a rhetorical threat-tion before, but he knows one when he sees one and makes himself scarce. Watching his retreating back, Kylo Ren grunts in frustration, punching a desk. He stands abruptly, seizes his lightsaber and heads for the nearest training room. It’s time to destroy something. A lot.


	2. A Ren by Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux notices that things might be changing for the better under Supreme Leader Ren. They have a surprisingly honest conversation about Snoke and agree on a couple things: empires are great and wookiees are the worst.

Hux shakes his head. How exactly is the galaxy going to thrive with this violent man-child at its head?

He and Ren had gone to all the trouble of traveling to the _Conqueror_ to investigate sabotage that wrecked one room and lost a few out-of-date holocrons. Meanwhile, the “Supreme Leader” himself had destroyed two training rooms and a lounge in the last two days! An ironic smile plays fleetingly across his striking, pallid face. At least he only had to answer to one psychopathic mind reader these days, rather than two. Perhaps he would someday realize his hope of bringing that number down to zero. Putting _order_ first, where it naturally belonged in the First Order.

For the moment, however, the goal is to survive, to preserve the organization and its people and property, and to make the best of the situation. The general registers the lack of alarms flashing on his control console, and glances at a chronometer. Ren must have finished his morning rampage and retired to the archives by now. Hux settles back into the demands of his work with a sigh.

His focus is interrupted an hour later by Lieutenant Mitaka with an apologetic summons to Ren’s chambers. He is sure that he telegraphs his annoyance from every pore as he swoops down the hall, swallowing a meal replacement beverage en route. The aesthetic pleasures of the body have never been a focus for Armitage Hux. He is well aware that his asceticism makes him unusual, and a corner of his mouth turns up in secret amusement as it occurs to him that he might not have made a bad Jedi. If he were more Force sensitive than a rock. And born into a different family, at a different time.

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was definitely not cut out to be a Jedi, though he seems to hold himself to monastic standards in certain areas of his life. When Hux enters his room after a perfunctory rap on the door, he sees that the side table is littered with the remnants of what must have been an exquisite lunch. Fragments of some smoked sea creature, the butt end of a loaf of crusty bread, and scattered greens frame a puddle of some sort of spiced sauce or spread. Wine lees pattern the side of a delicate, bulbous glass. Hux recognizes its sinuous silhouette; he’s seen many of those glasses shatter before.

Ren sees where his gaze has landed and smiles mirthlessly. “I decided to see what our chefs can do,” he explains. “The prior occupant of my office seems to have subsided mostly on intravenous nutrient infusions and the delightful pain of those around him, rather than food.”

Hux has never heard Ren talk about Snoke with so little respect. Either the man’s head is growing at an unconscionable rate, or the mystique is wearing off. Ren responds, again, to his unvoiced thought. (And he really must work on that mental shielding…)

“Don’t you feel it?” the Supreme Leader prods. “The haze that’s lifted? At first I thought I was the only one who had noticed. That he was only drawing from me, from my Force powers. Well, from me and the Knights, when they were around.

“But I’ve noticed that everyone seems to be sharper since the…since my succession. Here on the _Finalizer_ , for instance. Employee errors are down by at least 15% in every department. Fighting, emergency medical visits, and reconditioning orders are down among the Stormtroopers across the entire fleet.”

Hux is momentarily flabbergasted and tries to conceal his shock. He never knew Kylo Ren had the propensity to pay attention to these sorts of organizational details.

“Perhaps it is due to improved leadership, Supreme Leader?” Hux congratulates himself on the subtlety of his flattery. The self-congratulation evaporates when he sees Ren basically rolling his eyes.

“I’ve barely done anything other than tell you and the other commanding officers to carry on,” Ren admits. “It’s not anything operational like that. I’m telling you, he was a parasite.

“Look, I know you hate and mistrust the Force,” he continues. “You have had many reasons to wish that the power of the Dark Side was…directed elsewhere, or didn’t exist, or…” Ren trails off, not noticing the stunned way in which Hux is taking in his unusual display of self-awareness. “When I was training, Snoke always encouraged me to revel in my anger, to focus my hatred. He told me that my pain would make me stronger.” Ren looks up, his meltingly deep brown eyes focused on Hux’ sharp green ones. “That was a lie. The anger, the hatred: yes. They fed my power. Feed my power. The pain? Banthashit. Punching myself in a kriffing bowcaster wound did not make me fight better or stronger. But it delighted our “dear” master. He fed on our pain. And when too few of us were in pain, he just drained a little bit of the lifeforce from everyone around him.” The Supreme Leader pauses. “Tell me you feel it too?”

Hux thinks for a moment, still utterly stunned at the depth of reflection he is witnessing from his erstwhile colleague and antagonist. “I can’t honestly say that I have noticed this…miasma,” Hux offers. “I have experienced less pain this week because you have seen fit not to Force choke me for any reason. But I had attributed the improved performance of our troops to their desire to make a good impression on new leadership during a time of transition. Time will tell if the effect persists; if so, perhaps you are correct that there is a mystical explanation,” the sour expression is impossible to repress from his face. “If I may be so frank…” he pauses, not actually daring to speak baldly.

“Go ahead,” Ren sighs, probably dreaming up new ways to demolish their surroundings if Hux’s next words prove unsatisfactory.

“Well, Supreme Leader,” Hux gulps, “you were traditionally known as the Jedi Killer, which might not be the most accurate moniker, since there remain some Jedi…” he trails off.

“I did kill most of them,” Ren snarls. “Did you have a point?”

“Just that perhaps your biggest accomplishment of exterminating Force users involved…not a Jedi.” It is the closest Hux can bring himself to acknowledging that he knows that Ren killed Snoke. He cringes, not daring to look at the man who can kill him from meters away with a flick of a wrist. When he sneaks a glance, Ren is rubbing his temples in apparent frustration.

“I’m sure I didn’t call you here to discuss the…rumors about my allegedly traitorous accomplishments,” he growls out in a low voice. “Do you mind if we get to the point?”

“Not at all, Supreme Leader Sir!” Hux finds himself stiffening to attention almost by rote.

“All right then,” Ren grinds out. His eyes are stern and Hux hopes he did not anger the man too much with his allusion to the Coup That Didn’t Officially Happen or the Girl Who Presumably Got Away Since She’s Disappeared or even That Damned Skywalker Wherever He Is.

“I called you here today to discuss some ideas that have come to me as a result of my perusal of the Imperial Archives,” Ren continues. “The First Order is all well and good, but our origins in a secret uprising from the margins are out of sync with the central, powerful position we find ourselves in today.” Hux nods in agreement, thinking how much more his own actions — like the deployment of Starkiller Base against the Hosnian System — had to do with this success than Ren’s erratic behavior did. He suppresses a sigh as his superior continues.

“The Galactic Empire, I have decided, is an excellent model for the situation in which we find ourselves. There are differences, of course; I have no desire to rule from the shadows. I am no Sith,” Kylo is pacing the room at this point. Incongruously, he still wears a cloak or cape of some sort in his room after lunch, and it trails behind him swirling dramatically. “But we are an Empire, and we should be proud to proclaim it as such.”

“Very good, Supreme Leader.”

“Ah,” Kylo cuts in, “not Supreme Leader. From now on, we shall be referred to as Emperor Ren. His Imperial Majesty. Yes?”

Hux suppresses a choking sound at the “we.” He suppresses it frantically, in the hopes that he won’t be heard and end up making real choking sounds as a result of getting Force choked.

Something glints in the Emperor’s eyes — it might even be humor — as he acknowledges, “I realize that I might not be the only one who enjoys a proper title. What say you to Grand Moff Hux?” The other man’s face changes color rapidly, flush with delight, pale with pride, as he lurches through a series of emotions.

“Your Majesty,” Hux gasps out, sinking to one knee. Ren certainly seems to be learning something about management; either that or he’s been reading his mind again.

“Imperial Majesty, that is,” his master smirks. “Now, oh Moff of mine, it’s time for us to get to work.”

“Yes?” Hux queries, looking up from where he remains genuflecting on the cold floor.

“First things first. I have been considering the sabotage on the _Conqueror_. There is no further information from Maigal, correct? No leads or additional security footage?” Hux assents with a terse nod. “Such a clinical attack has to be the work of a particular group of Resistance operatives with whose approaches I am…well acquainted. One of whom gave me that bowcaster wound I mentioned.

“Frankly, I’m sick of wookiees. Conveniently enough, the last Emperor hated them. I think I am going to honor his memory by making an example of the wookiees.”

Hux nods. This sounds right up his alley.

“Whenever a wookiee is apprehended on suspicion of aiding the Resistance, have him brought to me. I have a unique punishment planned out.”

“As you wish,” Hux assents, slightly confused by the plan. However, he is well acquainted with Ren’s need to enact vengeance personally, with his own hands, so he supposes the plan makes good enough sense in that regard.

“Anything else?” he asks, rising to his feet at a gesture from the young Emperor.

“One more thing,” the raven-haired warrior answers offhandedly. “Any interest in dejarik?”

Hux had barely noticed the three — three! — ongoing dejarik games laid out on the table at the end of the room. The idle mode lights give off a muted glow as the pieces rest in their positions, awaiting the Emperor’s return to his distractions.

The general — Grand Moff, that is — thinks quickly. This can’t end well. “I…prefer more realistic tactical simulations.” He hopes the truth is his best option. “I believe Mitaka was rather a precocious dejarik player as a child, but I’m not sure he has kept up play…”

Ren snorts in response. “It’d be hard for him to play effectively when he shits himself every time I walk by. Forget I asked. You’re dismissed.”

Hux turns on his heel and leaves, dictating notes into his datapad. A quick change to the policy on wookiee prisoners, the new protocol surrounding Kylo’s title and his own. Perhaps they needed an official celebration, an imperial crowning? Now _that_ was an administrative challenge worthy of his talents. If they weren’t going to hunt the Resistance down this week — a project of hunting for a Corellian freighter-shaped needle in the haystack of the galaxy that Hux did not relish, despite its necessity — perhaps crowning a new and much-feared Galactic Emperor would bring those scum out of hiding. How delicious it would be to destroy them.


	3. Facing Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has calmed down enough after assuming the title of Emperor that it probably wouldn't hurt to take a peek from his perspective. Let's stalk him as he communes with his past...and his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was inspired by the hits and kudos and a slow day at work, so here's another chapter! Thanks for reading!! More is starting to happen. :)

Later that afternoon, in the archives, Kylo finds something he’s been looking for. It’s a solid steel crate, not much longer than his forearm in any direction, marked with an alphanumeric code. The archivists had believed, mistakenly, that this crate had been misfiled or accidentally destroyed some twenty years ago. It was originally retrieved from Mustafar.

The crate is supposed to hold the movable effects of Darth Vader, collected from his castle by Imperial Remnant agents around the time Ben Solo was born.

The freshly-minted emperor has no idea what he will find as he manipulates the locking mechanism with the Force and slowly lifts the lid. After a couple minutes he realizes he has been holding his breath. There’s a neat stack of holos which Kylo takes out to review later. A few leather-bound books, creaking with age and dry rot. Scraps of fabric hidden in a tiny engraved stone box. An outmoded prosthetic arm.

Kylo picks up one of the scraps of fabric, then hastily removes his leather gloves so that he can really feel it. Why is this tiny thing here? Darth Vader didn’t seem like a hoarder.

The cloth is finely woven silk, blues and golds twining together in an elaborate pattern. It almost looks familiar. He holds the scrap of silk between his fingers, poised over his left knee as he falls into a long-disused meditation pose. Reaching out with his senses into the currents of the Force, he tries to stop grasping at the memory and simply allow the feeling of deja vu to coalesce into whatever reality it has for him: a long-forgotten dream, or a real experience? It doesn’t make much sense since the object presumably comes from a time before he was even born.

At last something comes to him: a memory not terribly old. Once shortly after Snoke granted him freedom of movement as a trusted Knight of Ren, Kylo had travelled to Naboo in search of information about his heritage. In the royal museum, he had spent hours gazing upon a portrait of his grandmother. There was no mention of Anakin Skywalker in the museum, or really anywhere on Naboo, so the mission was mostly an exercise in frustration.

In the portrait, Queen Amidala had worn a shawl made of this very fabric.

The corners of his eyes twitch at the recognition and Kylo emerges from his trance. With that knowledge in hand, he is not surprised when he arrives at certainty about the second fabric scrap almost as soon as he lets it slip through his fingers. It’s shimmering white, a tiny piece no larger than a bandage, clearly torn off in haste or freed from a snag.

This piece of cloth smells like his mother.

Undoubtedly it’s an illusion; no one else would be able to detect a scent at all from this tiny thing buried in stone and steel for decades. But the Force has marked it as really hers, and in his current state of meditative openness he can recognize it. It’s certainly difficult to understand how or why these things were in Vader’s stronghold at the time of his death. It’s a mystery Kylo will have to puzzle over later.

For now, he thrills with anticipation as he takes the books and holos back to his chamber. There is much to learn — and learning is something he has always been preternaturally good at.

*************************

Late that evening Kylo is relaxing at his dejarik boards, alone, swirling his glass of whiskey. He feels a greater sense of accomplishment than he has in a while. He’s finally making progress to understand what it really means to fulfill Vader’s legacy. He’s managed to forget about the stupid Resistance. And he hasn’t lost a game of dejarik in days, not even while playing three matches simultaneously against the hardest droid mode.

So of course that’s when it happens. His chair has a view not only through the viewport, but also across the expanse of his chambers. Chambers that are suddenly shifting to reveal the interior of the Millennium Falcon. Rey is there, blindfolded, battling a flock of training remotes with a lightsaber he doesn’t recognize.

He sits motionless, surprised that he can see her surroundings, wondering when she’ll realize what’s changed in the Force around her. He opens himself up to feel her emotions and thinks he notices the sudden crimp of fury, swiftly surpressed, when she does. To all appearances she’s just focusing on elegantly practicing forms, happening to deflect sizzling blasts from the remotes almost as a side note.

It comes as a surprise when she makes a sweeping strike towards him that slices through his dejarik table, narrowly missing his boots. The table lists, spilling three idling gameboards toward him in an agonizing collapse.

Kylo squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to breathe as Rey smirks and removes her blindfold. The smirk fades, almost as soon as it began, into a look of horror. Her jaw drops open and she covers her mouth with a hand, forgotten saber hanging to her side, as she witnesses the last board crash to the floor.

Kylo speaks first. “You persist in destroying my things, scavenger. What the kriff?” He doesn’t feel particularly eloquent. This isn’t how he imagined he’d greet her when they next faced off.

Rey has flushed bright red and seems to be struggling over whether to apologize or not. She settles on a sort of non-apology apology. “I didn’t know,” she blurts out. “I knew you were here, I felt it, but I didn’t know I could…destroy your furniture. All I saw in the Force was you.”

“And you decided to slash your lightsaber very near to my toes in greeting?”

Rey looks vaguely embarrassed, studying her own boots. “I meant to startle you. Not to destroy your table.”

Kylo shakes his head, almost ready to laugh. If he could forget what happened last month on the _Supremacy_ , they’d probably still be on laughing terms. But they’re not. Instead he mutters, “Everyone will just think I destroyed the damn thing.”

Rey seems uncertain of what to say next as she gazes on the wreckage. She finally thumbs off her saber, stowing the hilt in her belt. “You have a lot of dejarik sets.” So she can see his surroundings, too, now.

“Had,” he grumbles. At least one of the boards is shattered.

“There’s a board here,” she trails off. _As you know_ , she whispers into his mind. “Can you see it?” She paces across that open area on the Falcon, sitting down in the booth. He's really not ready to deal with this again, but he nods.

“Are you…” he begins, unsure what he wants to commit to.

“Alone?” she supplies. “Yes. I will not be disturbed for the time being. So. Would you like to show me how to play?” Rey looks up, meeting his eyes. There might even be a glimmer of an apology in her gaze. “I…need a teacher.”

His stomach drops out and he feels rage activating, somewhere, but after the day he’s had he can’t be bothered to give it a conduit. So he throws back the rest of the whiskey and pulls up a chair to a dejarik table he can see and feel, but that really isn’t there. It’s wherever she’s hiding, on the freighter that must be his curse.

He just hopes they can keep the bond alight long enough for the whole first lesson.

 


	4. It's Important to Pass History, Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo plays dress-up, Hux hears what he wants to hear about history, and the boys find a mole in the First Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about a switch to M rating so I can use bleepable language without surprising anyone. And just in case we slip into the wrong part of Hux's mind.

The next morning, the Emperor is late for his fitting for the coronation wardrobe. Hux is not surprised at the unpredictability of his puerile monarch, but he had hoped things were moving in a positive direction. Towards responsibility and power, away from chaos.

Hux raps once and then lets himself into Ren’s chambers with a swipe of his hand. As the commander of the ship he can override any individual security codes. He doesn’t usually like to remind the Emperor of this power he has, but Hux is a bit irate at the man’s irritating irresponsibility.

Hux looks up as he enters the room. A small grunt of dismay escapes him involuntarily. The Emperor is passed out, sitting on the floor, his head lolled back on the seat of an armchair, tempting locks disarrayed. A nearly-empty bottle of whiskey lies by his right hand. Off to the side, the wreckage of a large, ornate table and three dejarik boards bears testimony to the violent misuse of a lightsaber. Surprisingly, nothing else is slashed to bits this time. Hux supposes he should be thankful for small mercies.

Ren’s eyes flutter open and he smiles for some inexplicable reason before staggering to his feet and silently prowling to the ‘fresher. Hux waits, scowling, only a few minutes before the Emperor emerges, looking serious but none the worse for wear. He finishes clasping his least complicated sable tunic ensemble before gesturing to the Grand Moff to lead the way.

The young emperor munches on fruit and cured meats while two tailors — one humanoid and one droid — take his measurements and offer him fabric swatches for approval. He has very precise opinions about his attire. The tailors are shocked and thrilled when he suggests the possibility of wearing some garments in a shade other than black.

Hux distracts himself by responding to communiques on his datapad until Ren catches his attention.

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” he asks, looking up and putting the datapad to the side. He thinks he glimpses a flicker of pride and satisfaction on the other man’s face as he hears his new title. Hux will have to keep that in mind.

“I’m wondering about your goals for this coronation,” the emperor begins. “Besides making me endure hours of scrutiny in uncomfortable headgear, that is. What are you hoping to achieve for our rule?”

Hux smiles. “Your loyal subjects will love the spectacle,” he gushes. “But you’re right, I have additional strategic considerations. The Resistance is nearly eliminated, but wiping out the last remnants will demand a disproportionate amount of effort. Unless they come to us, that is.”

Ren considers this. “You believe that crowning a Galactic Emperor is of sufficient symbolic significance to draw them out.” Hux nods, but the younger man looks pensive and unconvinced. “She will know it is a trap. I’m not convinced she will risk it in their current state. They have waited before.”

This time Hux isn’t sure which “she” Ren is referring to. But he has a card up his sleeve. “I know Your Imperial Majesty has great reverence for galactic history as a guide to action,” he says, “so I put some of our analysts to work studying internecine succession conflicts. Historically, where there is a woman involved, it is she who jettisons her ideals and takes unreasonable risks in the hope of attaining victory. If a ruler is wise, he simply holds true to his cause and waits for her to overreach.”

The emperor quirks an eyebrow, looking unconvinced. “That’s your analysis, is it? Based on which particular internecine wars?”

Hux consults his datapad. “According to Analyst Xonik, who compiled the report, the most memorable incident occurred during the reign of Empress Mon. Her cousin, King Stjepa, was widely considered to be more in tune with the goals of the empire, but the old emperor had declared Mon his heir in a moment of weakness.” Ren looks interested, if skeptical, so he continues. “The war went on for many years and was destroying imperial territory. Mon almost had victory in her grasp, but chose to waste her time ridiculing planetary rulers who were on the fence between the two sides. They declared for Stjepa and the war ended swiftly.”

The emperor looks like he is about to either laugh or go into a rage, and Hux isn’t sure why. Perhaps because of the negative implications of this line of strategic analysis on the leadership qualities of his mother? Not like he has ever said anything positive about her abilities, but Hux knows that the emperor’s family situation has been the cause of a great deal of strife. When possible, it’s a good topic to avoid.

“Bring him to me,” the emperor commands offhandedly.

“Whom?” Hux queries, confused.

“Analyst Xonik, of course,” Ren looks up, not understanding the confused tone. His eyes scan across Hux’ face for a fraction of a second. “Oh, I see,” Ren corrects himself. “Xonik is a she. Bring her to me.”

Gods, Hux hates working with a mind-reader. But he taps in the command and before long he is seated in a spare, spacious office with Ren as the young woman marches in and stands at attention.

“At ease,” he allows. She looks at them boldly, a wisp of blonde hair escaping from the neat updo tucked under her regulation military cap. She has pleasant enough curves hidden in that uniform, but it’s the dare in her gaze that had struck Hux during their hiring interview. He speaks with each analyst personally before they join central command. Usually the type of Academy graduate who rises in the Analyst ranks is withdrawn, cerebral. She looked at him with all the adventuresomeness of a pilot.

“That’s because she _is_ a pilot, you dolt,” Ren suddenly says aloud. Hux turns red, furious, and splutters. He hopes Ren hadn’t also seen what he had imagined about this bold woman when he interviewed her.

Xonik looks suddenly uncomfortable and stares at her feet. The emperor stands and begins to prowl the perimeter of the room.

“She’s a pilot for the Resistance,” he pronounces crisply.

Hux is confused. Ren doesn’t seem to be interrogating her mind — he’s not raising a hand, there’s no blood dripping from her. How is he so certain?

Ren walks up directly in front of the girl. She holds her gaze steadily fixed on the ground.

“You are no analyst. Do you even know any more about history than Hux here?” he asks, pausing for a moment. He doesn’t seem surprised when she doesn’t answer, so he continues. “Galactic history my ass. There have been fewer than five female emperors, none of them named Mon.” Here he looks accusingly at Hux. The differing quality and loyalties of their educations has long been a point of contention between the two men. “What you fed us in this report is a Chandrilan folktale! The Battle of Mon and Stjepa. I had a lovely illustrated edition when I was five. Are you actually that ignorant, that you would think I wouldn’t recognize it?”

He stops again, grabbing her chin and lifting it so she’s forced to work very hard to avoid meeting his eyes. Now Hux can see that Ren is beginning to invade her mind, just a little. The emperor drops her face and stomps to the other side of the room in aggravation.

“No. You’re not that ignorant of history. She knew I would recognize it. She wants us to know that she has agents here, that she is fully informed about our intentions for the coronation.” Ren’s eyes flash as he glares at Hux. “She wants me to know that whatever happens, she’s going into it with her eyes wide open. Damn it all!” Now the lightsaber is out and ignited, buzzing angrily. Xonik looks like one of the wings just snapped on her X-Wing and Hux is sure he doesn’t look much happier himself. It’s never pleasant to be around Ren when he’s discussing General Organa.

All Hux can croak out is, “Agents? Plural?”

“Yes, I saw it in her mind, easily,” Ren spits out. “Somewhere on this ship, a man. I didn’t look for more detail. We are going to find him ourselves while Connix here languishes in a prison cell. When we find him, then I can check his identity with another nice little foray into her mind.”

The Resistance operative shivers. Even Hux can tell that she relishes that experience less than the prospect of whatever imprisonment the First Order has in store.

Hux can feel the emperor’s cold stare on him as he summons troopers to take the pilot to her detention cell.

“Well.” There’s an ominous pause after Ren’s first word. “I think it’s time we adjust First Order hiring practices.” Another ominous pause, but Hux can’t formulate a response, so he keeps his mouth shut in a sharp line. “There are, what, about twenty living members of the Resistance? And we’ve hired TWO OF THEM? To work on our FLAGSHIP?” Ren smashes a fist down on the table, enhancing his blow with his powers so that it is pulverized. It’s Hux’s turn to shiver. “One of the spies even in your own command unit,” the emperor continues, his words hissing with rage. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Hux tries. He really tries to come up with a response that is dignified and balances his authority with deference to the emperor. But it’s really hard to think with Ren radiating anger and power, so he flubs a bit. “Under Snoke, we didn’t have much autonomy, there was no real process,” he finds himself saying. “Whomever I hired, Snoke would vet them. Even if I did my best due diligence he sometimes rejected people for no clear reason, so there was not much point to it.” For once, Hux finds himself wishing he could have more Force sensitives around. Then he could leave this stupid lie detecting rubbish to the mystical freaks.

“No such luck,” Ren grinds out. “You’re stuck with only me. And my time is too valuable to be interrogating your every hire. So you better find a way to stop hiring RESISTANCE MEMBERS!” He paused, breathing heavily. “Next time I find one of them alive on our ship, you are going to suffer exactly the same punishment as they are,” he threatens.

Hux isn’t sure if that means he’s in trouble when they find the man Ren already knows is hiding on the ship, or some later infiltration, but it’s pretty clear what he has to do. He’ll stop the Resistance spy, execute him, and then work on shielding his mind again. He definitely needs to have some long, hard thoughts about whether it’s beneficial to the Order to have this unstable lunatic at its head. And those are thoughts he needs to be able to have in private.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Battle of Mon and Stjepa" is very loosely based on Empress Maud and King Stephen from English history. All I know about them I learned from the Brother Cadfael novels by Ellis Peters so...Kylo Ren would not approve of my level of scholarly rigor here.


	5. What a Wookiee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Wookiee prisoners are dragged before the emperor for his unique brand of justice. Hux has some negative sensory experiences and Kylo pulls a Kylo. Has he learned anything about governing himself, or an empire?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up coming out sort-of as crack. Sorry about that. If you've been reading for a serious story you can skip to the end of the chapter for a summary of what happens that will have an influence on the ongoing plot.
> 
> While you read, enjoy these two classic humorous songs about Wookiees:  
> https://youtu.be/nieszHz1itU  
> https://youtu.be/t0vsNFO2pDg

Grand Moff Hux likes many things. For instance, he likes order, and cleanliness. He likes powerful weapons, victory, and the neat alignment of rows of marching Stormtroopers.

There are a few things that he doesn’t like, chief among them filth both literal and figurative. Resistance scum that may have never bathed in its life is simply the worst. Add to that the fact that Hux is not particularly enthusiastic about non-humans, and his role as warden for a series of captive…Wookiees…is not filling him with great enthusiasm.

**************************

The first Wookiee prisoner has a very brief tenure on the _Finalizer_. Hux brings him to the chamber where the emperor intends to enact his unique punishment (whatever it may be) on any available Wookiees. The room is the former audience chamber where Hux and Ren used to bow before Snoke. It is devoid of furnishings except for a heavily carved table in the center of the room, and two chairs. The emperor is already seated in one of the chairs, fooling with a dejarik board that rests on the table.

Something tells Hux that the simple binder cuffs restraining the prisoner will not confine him for long. He is therefore surprised when Ren frees the Wookiee’s wrists with a flick of his hand and commands him to sit down at the table across from him.

The prisoner is having none of it and charges the emperor. The stormtroopers in attendance instantly lift their blaster rifles to end the threat to their overlord’s life. But Ren (ever the show-off, Hux thinks) pins the blaster bolts in the air with one hand while drawing his lightsaber with the other. With a swift strike, he cleaves the Wookiee from right shoulder to left hip.

The cauterized remains hit the floor with a heavy thud, fur smoking. Swatting the suspended blaster shots to the floor, the emperor turns on his heel and leaves the room rapidly. His visage is twisted into a sort of sneer, and Hux can’t tell if he is exhilarated or irritated. He’s never seen Ren’s face when performing an execution before; he always wore the mask.

************************

Hux hopes that Ren’s plans for each Wookiee prisoner end in such a swift and satisfying manner. He has no idea where his agents came up with this second…creature. Well, they did tell him, but he was too appalled by the smell to really pay attention.

“Mitaka!” he barks. “Remind me how we picked up this Resistance scum?”

The Wookiee howls and tries to make a rude gesture, an attempt that is basically scuttled by the thick ropes that bind his arms to his sides.

Mitaka looks only marginally less afraid than when he has to bring Ren a caf, but he swallows and tries to speak in an even tone. “Well, sir, they found him in a cantina on Tatooine.”

“A cantina on Tatooine. Sounds promising. Any other valuable intelligence to add?” Hux scoffs.

“It was a more successful rendition attempt than our other twelve attempts to bring in Wookiee rebels. Reportedly, Jake here was passed out drunk,” Mitaka goes on.

“Jake?” Hux asks incredulously. “What kind of name is that? I’ve never heard of a Wookiee with a name of fewer than three syllables.”

“It’s possible that it’s an assumed name,” the lieutenant admits, blanching. “It’s emblazoned on his vest.”

“Vest?” Hux is getting tired of the ridiculousness already. “Who ever heard of a Wookiee wearing clothing? And besides that, how much liquor does it take to get a Wookiee drunk?”

Mitaka ponders for a moment. “Perhaps that is why the apprehending agents noted that they had full cooperation from the cantina’s owner, who has otherwise obstructed their efforts to advance the aims of the First Order on Tatooine. Apparently the proprietor indicated that Jake was a regular, but never pays his bill.”

The entourage reaches the trial chamber and Hux unlocks the door with a swift swipe of his palm. Ren is seated in the same place as the last time, studying his dejarik board once again.

“Come in,” he intones languidly, not looking up. Hux, Mitaka, “Jake,” and a dozen stormtroopers file into the room. Two troopers force the Wookiee, arms still bound, to sit across from the emperor. Hux hangs back near the door. The room has very high ceilings and decent air circulation, and he hopes that if he stands this far away he will stop being able to smell the prisoner.

“A walking carpet,” Ren sneers. “A very filthy walking carpet. Tell me, what is your name?”

The Wookiee warbles an answer. Hux isn’t really sure what the point is of interrogating something that only speaks in a series of moans and grunts. But the emperor is laughing?

“Jake? Seriously, you expect me to believe that? Right, and my name is Admiral Ackbar,” Ren sneers.

Hux is very confused, since he didn’t hear anyone tell Ren that the Wookiee was named Jake.

“I understand Shyriiwook,” the emperor tells him. Oh. Of course.

Something even stranger happens then. A sudden change comes over the emperor’s face, like he has seen a ghost. He abruptly gets to his feet. “Take charge here, Hux. Don’t damage the prisoner. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” And he’s gone.

The Stormtroopers look bored and the Wookiee, who is incomprehensible to everyone in the room, is yelling in what sounds like a rude tone of yowl. Hux has a brainstorm.

“Mitaka, page SXC-71 and bring it here,” he commands.

Mitaka acknowledges him and departs briskly on his errand. He returns some minutes later with a gleaming black metallic droid. It’s of average human height — maybe on the tall side for a woman, just below average for a man — with a pronounced feminine shape to the torso and hips. SXC-71 walks with a swagger, clanking and whirring lightly. She looks vintage, but well-maintained.

“Sirs, how may I be of service?” she asks in a cultivated Imperial Coruscanti accent. “I am proficient in…”

Hux cuts her off. “Is Shyriiwook one of your languages?”

“Quite so,” there is a pause as her optical scanners, which are large and round, process the insignia adorning Hux’s jacket, “Grand Moff. I understand the language, but cannot generate it correctly with my vocal processors.” The words emerge in pleasing, low tones from an even larger, rounder approximation of a mouth.

“Then let us begin,” Hux nods. “I will interrogate the prisoner and you will assist by translating his responses.”

Hux commandeers the emperor’s chair and begins his questioning. “What is your name, prisoner?”

SXC-71 translates each response. “He says that his name is Jake.”

Hux shakes his head. “Lying to me is no way to survive this encounter. Now, resistance scum, why don’t you tell me about the location of your current base.”

The Wookiee growls. “He says that he has nothing to do with the resistance, and that the current base is located in your arse.”

Hux nods curtly to the stormtrooper standing to Jake’s right, who takes a step forward and abruptly backhands the prisoner across the face. The Wookiee shakes his head and spits on the floor.

Hux is rapidly turning red. “The emperor is even more violent than I am. You had better start answering questions or he is going to rip the answers out of your mind. Now, tell me about the whereabouts of Luke Skywalker.”

“Jake” yodels for half a minute or so. The droid hesitates before beginning to translate. “Grand Moff, sir, do you wish to hear a full translation or just a summary?”

“A full translation,” Hux affirms. “That’s why I brought you here.”

The Wookiee slouches back in his seat, almost smirking as the droid delivers his message. “The prisoner said that he has kriff all to do with the idiot Resistance, and that if the emperor has bloody Jedi mind tricks, he will see that he speaks the truth. He adds that the emperor can take his effete Jedi ways and shove them, perhaps when he takes a break from using his so-called mind powers to observe his bloody coward uncle Luke Skywalker shagging his mother, who is the only one of the lot with any balls.”

The blood drains from Hux’ face and he leaps to attention when he realizes that the emperor has returned to the chamber at some point in the middle of this rant. He looks decidedly less pleased then when he departed. Imperial anger might portend rapid Wookiee elimination, which would be a good thing, but Hux is afraid he is going to be the target of Ren’s wrath. He didn’t obtain permission to begin the interrogation, and Ren might just have overheard something decidedly unflattering. For the moment, the emperor just seems to be inspecting SXC-71.

Hux could swear that the emperor is beginning to…smile? There even seems to be a twinkle in his eye. In fact, he approaches Hux and clasps him around the shoulders in comradely fashion. The Grand Moff stands stiffly, unsure of the occasion for this odd attention.

“My dear Armitage,” Ren drawls, “you have the most…unique Wookiee interrogation methods! And the fact that you were aware that an Imperial-era comfort droid would be compatible with Wookiee genitalia… You never cease to surprise me.

“But seriously, Hux,” he continues, “I leave the room for five minutes and you bring in a sexbot? The least you could do would be to excuse the poor Lieutenant. It’s probably not the sort of interrogation his delicate sensibilities can handle.” Mitaka nods sharply, eyes bugging out of his head. It’s pretty clear he never knew SXC-71 was anything more or less than a protocol droid.

The droid herself cuts in while Hux sputters, grasping for words. “Your Imperial Majesty, the Grand Moff requested that I use my knowledge of Shyriiwook to assist the proceedings of a standard prisoner interview. No mention has been made of my additional capabilities. Begging Your Imperial Majesty’s pardon, my protocol training instructs me to take offense if I am called a “sexbot” outside of a seductive conversation module. I must therefore object, with all due respect.”

The emperor looks like he can’t believe his ears, but he’s still riding the wave of his amusement. His silence gives Hux a moment to begin apologizing. “Standard protocol droids won’t translate foul language, Your Imperial Majesty,” he manages to gasp out. “She seemed the right choice for this repulsive rebel character. I don’t like being insulted without my knowledge.”

Ren cuts him off. “Groveling isn’t one of your skills,” he mutters. “Get rid of your ridiculous toy — or at least tell her to shut up — and I’m going to get on with this. If you want to know when you’re being insulted, you could try learning a language besides Basic. I didn’t need to hear what this moron thought of me twice. He seems to have a death wish.”

Hux nods sharply, stifling a protest at the ridiculous idea that he, the most senior officer of the First Order military, should have to know multiple languages. If people want his favor, they can learn to communicate his way! Recalling himself, he sends Mitaka scurrying from the room flanked by SXC-71. The lieutenant looks even more discomfited than usual as he goes out to potentially encounter his brother officers in such questionable company.

At last, order is restored and the emperor arranges himself over his chair once again. He motions to the troopers to move several paces away from the prisoner. Hux retreats to his safe olfactory distance.

The emperor raises one hand almost imperceptibly. The ropes binding the wookie’s arms to his sides fall away, but he sits frozen stiffly in place as the man opposite him begins to talk in a voice that is low and quiet, but full of threat.

“You and your allies have challenged my authority, and now it is time to pay the price. There is little room for your sort of revolt in my galaxy.” He pauses, composing his face from its snarl before continuing. “It is my pleasure that you shall play dejarik with me today. If you win fairly, we can discuss your options. If you lose, cheat, or threaten me during the proceedings, you will die. Do you understand?”

A terse grunt from the Wookiee appears to satisfy the emperor that he is understood, for he relaxes the hand that had been restraining the Wookiee. “Jake” slumps in his seat, then takes up a piece and makes the first move.

Ren plays with confidence, leisurely, toying with the Wookiee’s pieces like a felinx with its prey. Every now and then he takes his own time to comment on something or other of little consequence. “Jake the Radar Technician, your badge says?” he queries this time. “The resistance has moved into a base so old they are dependent on radar technology? That’s below even what Tatooine has to offer.”

The Wookiee responds with a series of staccato yelps. Ren isn’t doing the other personnel in the room the favor of translating anything “Jake” says, but he seems skeptical of whatever the Wookiee is telling him.

“Do realize that if you do not reveal any actionable intelligence, I will be forced to retrieve it for myself. Regardless of whether you believe in my powers, they are real, and they will cause you pain.”

While he is speaking he puts the finishing touch to a masterful series of moves, and seems to Hux that it has finally dawned on the Wookiee that he’s trapped. He’s going to lose the game in the next two turns and then his life is forfeit. The beast leaps to his feet with a series of angry yowls, sweeping the dejarik board off the table. Ren is on his feet in an instant, facing him.

The prisoner is clearly flying into a rage, and he upends the table, hurling it toward the emperor. It crashes into his hip. He barely seems to register the impact of the heavy piece of furniture, shifting his weight to rest evenly on both feet as he ignites the violent crimson lightsaber. One vigorous slash and it’s all over. So much for the actionable intelligence.

Ren’s lips are pressed into a thin, stern line and his expression is unreadable. Leaving the smoking mass of Wookiee corpse for the troopers to dispose of, he stalks from the room. The stench is much worse this time; Hux had never truly wished to discover, empirically, whether hygienic fur-care practices affected the aroma of singed Wookiee. Starkiller + Kashyyyk should have rendered that Not His Problem, and it certainly would have were it not for certain mismanagements on the part of his regrettable liege lord.

Two dead Wookiees and, unless he missed some spilling of Resistance secrets in Shyriiwook, nothing to show for it. Next time perhaps he and SXC-71 will need to have a longer interview with the prisoner before Ren is even made aware of his presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped to here without reading the crack, what you need to know is that Kylo Ren executed two Wookiees with his lightsaber. Meanwhile Hux tried to deploy an Imperial-era sexbot as a translator droid. No information about the Resistance was acquired -- unless Kylo heard something in Shyriiwook that he's not sharing. Next time, we'll check in with his POV.


	6. The Ginger, the Jedi, and the Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has to deal with Hux and Rey in short order, and they're both asking the most awkward possible questions. Emperor of the Galaxy is not the most fun job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took over a week to post this! Kylo's POV is a little more complicated to write because he is more perceptive than Hux. I hope you all enjoy the return of Rey.

A few hours have passed since the disastrous interrogation? execution? whatever it was, and Kylo is distracting himself in his quarters. He’s playing four games of dejarik in a cycle while trying on a huge collection of clothing the tailors delivered for his coronation. It’s the first draft, essentially; he can select garments he likes and reject the rest, and then the team will build on his preferences to create a wardrobe sufficient for all the public events.

Kylo delivers a finishing move on the second board, so he’s down to focusing on three games. He looks in the mirror, scowling at his current ensemble. Right now he’s working through the shirts and tunics. Even in a garish blood-red tone, this shirt’s construction — flaps that cross in front in a wrap pattern — somehow manages to remind him both of Jedi uniforms and his father’s shirts. He rips it a little on the way off, just to spite the tailor (and work off some of the persistent adrenaline that is his familiar hangover after an execution).

The next garment is more promising. It’s a tunic in a fascinating shot silk that looks slate grey from one angle, deep midnight blue from another. Frog fasteners descend from a stiff, high collar, and a tasteful padded shaping in the shoulders shows that the designer of this garment bothered to do their research on how the emperor dresses. He slips his arms into the sleeves and is about to begin on the numerous closures when his door buzzes. It opens with a wave of his hand and Hux passes into the chamber.

“You wished to speak with me?” The ginger Grand Moff is all business, though Kylo detects some mild…distress?…at intruding on him in his state of déshabillé. He resumes his buttoning, large fingers working with a dexterity some find surprising.

“Yes. I wanted to check in. You know that I rely on your administrative talents to organize the coronation. Those sorts of details are tedious — like most of these clothes. What do you think of this one?” Kylo has finished buttoning the tunic and turns back and forth, admiring it in the mirror.

“Quite imperial, though the color is not…according to Your Imperial Majesty’s accustomed style,” Hux offers.

Kylo skewers him with a glance. “Black all the time is suitable if you wish to live your life in the shadows, I suppose. Snoke started from the shadows of the Outer Rim, but a new approach is necessary if we are to rule in the center and ignite the enthusiasm of the galaxy.”

“That is a perspective I haven’t heard from you before,” Hux responds, somewhat quizzically. He coughs suddenly as Kylo begins unbuttoning the tunic again.

“Anyway, my color palette is not why I asked you to come here. I wanted to ensure that you consult me on the few matters relating to the coronation that do pique my interest.”

“Certainly; I will note your preference,” Hux says, taking out a datapad to do just that.

“First, you will brief me in advance about your tactical preparations for any Resistance attendance or sabotage of the event,” Kylo speaks clearly, knowing that he and Hux have different priorities in this regard. But for now, his second-in-command raises no disagreement. “Second,” he continues, “I wish to know the plans for the accommodation of my Knights. They plan to attend; where do you intend to house them?”

Hux is on top of this issue. “We have already secured a building in the appropriate sector of Coruscant for the Knights and any entourage they bring along. The building also houses training facilities and a private medical clinic. I took the liberty of securing these services for the duration of the festivities.”

“You have done well,” Kylo intones deeply. “I do have two further requests regarding the Knights. First, inform me when any Knight arrives at the _Finalizer_ , so I can greet them personally. And second, do not permit any of the Knights to enter my chambers here on the _Finalizer_.”

Kylo finishes removing the tunic, spreading it neatly on the bed with the few other pieces that have earned a positive reception. The next garment appears to be some kind of odd charcoal-grey knit sweater with a cowl neck. He didn’t anticipate the wardrobe including casual wear, but it looks comfortable, so he picks it up.

Hux is clearly confused by the restrictions on the Knights of Ren and their access to their leader, but Kylo isn’t going to explain his current paranoias around Force sensitives. He does allow the man to ask for clarification, however.

“Does the prohibition extend to Duzile Ren, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“Why would it not?” Kylo asks, clenching his jaw. And then he feels it. Of course. The Force hates him. This is the moment it chooses to connect them. Couldn’t it have selected a more convenient time? Like when he was dismembering the Wookiees of the Resistance or something?

Hux is struggling for words, but Kylo suddenly wishes he would just leave. No, he’s going on: “…you were in one another’s chambers, ah, routinely. So I, ah, wondered if…”

“Hux, you know that was over nearly a year ago. You had a hidden security cam in her damn room, you know every detail. There is no need for her to have access.”

Hux flushes to a shade even more fiery than his hair. “I…was there anything else?”

“No. No Knights. Kriff, no Force sensitives whatsoever in my chamber. If you don’t understand why, I suggest you go research Sith paranoia,” Kylo wills him to leave the room. He wrestles the grey sweater over his head, still refusing to turn to look at the woman he knows is perched on a chair over near his fourth dejarik board. Hux shows zero sign of registering her presence, which is a welcome support of his theory that only Force sensitives can eavesdrop on the Bond. “For the moment, I require nothing more. You are dismissed.”

Hux accepts the abrupt farewell and exits the chamber.

**************************

Kylo takes a deep breath, steeling himself to face the anger that’s emanating from his bondmate. He runs his hands through his hair before turning around. Rey is seated exactly where he expects; the Force has been depositing her at this game table on the occasional evening, plus any time one of them is intensely emotionally overwrought.

She speaks first. “So, anything you need to tell me?”

Kylo tamps down the sensory overload of the wookiee’s death as hard as he can, trying to preserve an impassive facial expression. “About what?”

“Doozy Ren? Floozy Ren? Whatever her name is?” Her mouth shuts in a hard line.

Kylo gapes at her, composure out the window. While he knew the conversation he was having with Hux was not ideal for her arrival, it didn’t occur to him that she’d lead with this. “Duzile Ren? Huh? She’s…she’s nothing.” He flinches. “…to me.” And, deciding honesty is the best policy when you’re mentally bonded with someone, “Anymore.”

“Smooth, Kylo, real smooth. Do you tell all the girls they are nothing?” He scowls, but has no articulate reply, so Rey pushes her advantage. “Is that why they call them the Nights of Ren? It’s whoever Ren keeps around to spend the night with?” Her voice is raised and he recognizes the pitch of her anger. It’s how he feels when he’s about to start throwing things or…well, at least it looks like she’s not holding a lightsaber tonight.

Somehow, Rey’s anger is starting to have a soothing effect on Kylo. It feels like their levels of darkness and light are sloshing around closer to equilibrium than usual. Perhaps if he took just a slight dip into his own light? He’ll try that.

Kylo ponders Rey’s absurd accusation, just for a second. The Nights of Ren. It’s actually a good one; he hasn’t heard that before. He…laughs. He imagines the look on Ktassak Ren’s face if he told him a scavenger from Jakku thought that he was a gigolo, and now he’s laughing loud enough to be audible.

Rey is not amused. “You are insufferable!” she grits out between clenched teeth.

Kylo stops laughing, but he’s still smiling. He walks back to the portable armoire and selects the next coronation ensemble he is supposed to try on. He has his doubts about this outfit, but he’s trying to respect the tailors’ craft. He pulls the comfortable sweater up over his head, throwing it in a heap on top of the neatly arrayed silk jacket from earlier.

Rey squeaks. Kylo sneaks a glance over his shoulder, and she’s so pink it looks like steam is going to come out of her ears. “Put that jumper back on this instant!” she commands.

Kylo pauses, the next shirt hanging from his hands. He puts the shirt down and strides, menacingly shirtless, nearer to his unpredictable visitor. “My dear Jedi,” he drawls, reaching out to grasp her chin affectionately, “you’ve elected to visit while I’m trying on clothing for my coronation. Nothing much to be done about it; I hope you like watching me change.” He sees she’s become a little bit paler, whether at the prospect of repeated strip-shows or the reality of his ascension to Emperor, he doesn’t know. “Now, things would be different,” he continues, “if you had accepted my offer. You too would have an amazing collection of uncomfortable clothing to try on!”

Dropping her chin, he walks back across the room and picks up the dropped shirt. It’s completely over the top; something gold and shiny, with billowing sleeves. It comes with finely textured trousers in a deep chocolate color. He steps out of his accustomed black pants, unsurprised to see Rey blanch, squeak, and cover her eyes (mostly). Pulling on the brown pants, he finds that they are very high-waisted, so it is some trouble to tuck the billowy golden shirt into them. He looks in the mirror, shaking his head.

The clothing fits…very, very well. The pants show off the contours of his powerful thighs to perfection, the high waist lengthening his muscles instead of thickening the silhouette as fitted pants tended to do when low-waisted. The shirt is correctly proportioned for his broad chest and long arms. But the overall effect is completely ridiculous.

“I look like an opera singer. Or a space pirate,” he snorts.

“You are a space pirate. An evil space pirate,” Rey retorts, opening her eyes and then opening them wider, in shock at his unaccountably colorful garments. “I—” She’s speechless.

Kylo is laughing again, quietly, and taking off the preposterous outfit. “I’m not sure what events they have planned for my coronation, but I’m beginning to suspect it’s deviating a bit from whatever the plan was back in the Palpatine era.” Rey quirks an eyebrow. Her anger is starting to subside, though her emotional presence still feels very erratic. “Can you imagine that old Sith in this get-up?”

Now Rey’s giggling. She doesn’t protest when he removes his trousers and wanders over to the armoire in just compression shorts and socks to take out the next outfit. If Rey’s getting happier, Kylo wonders, does that mean he needs to get angrier to keep the bond in equilibrium? He hopes not, but the way their conversations go lately he wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up out of control.

He has to risk returning to conversation topics that are more fraught than his weird clothing, however. “What brought you here earlier today?” he asks. “Were you upset? We barely got to say hello.” He’s thinking back to when she had materialized behind Hux as he sat opposite the Wookiee. He’d run off into the hallway and led her away to someplace where they could chat without security people noticing his erratic behavior, but by the time they had walked back to his chambers she was fading out. The frustration he’d felt as a result only dissipated when he returned to the ridiculous interrogation Hux was conducting with his droid.

“I was fine,” she says. “Why do you ask if I was upset?”

He narrows his eyes, wondering if it’s wise to share the clues he finds with her or if she’ll use them against him. He decides to go all in; it’s kind-of the only way Kylo Ren knows how to operate. ”I think the bond connects when one of us is having an intense experience,” he admits. She’s looking thoughtful, but shaking her head.

“Nothing intense for me, I was just meditating with mediocre success as usual. Though,” and she pauses for longer than makes him comfortable, “you did feel rather intense when I appeared.”

“I’m usually in my chambers when I see you; this made for a lot greater challenge to avoid detection,” he offers.

“No, it was more than that,” she says. “Your energy in the Force felt more like…that day last week when you said you had to kill a prisoner to defend yourself?”

Kylo blanches moderately, but given how naturally pale he is, he thinks she probably doesn’t notice the change. “I was definitely emotionally on edge that day. I don’t see what this morning had to do with it.”

“Not just this morning; I feel it now, too. Did you kill someone today?” she asks jokingly.

He swallows. The Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. She’s not going to like this news. Not one bit. But the longer he hesitates, the more the look in her eyes transitions from humor to confusion, then concern.

Kylo’s in an odd mood and the zip fastener in his current tunic is stuck on a thread somewhere, so he’s not sure how he ends up deciding on what’s probably the worst possible response. “You’re asking if Kylo Ren killed someone today?” he laughs. “I thought Kylo Ren was supposed to perform a genocide before breakfast every day.”

He’s looking at her, so he has the unfortunate luxury of seeing the moment that her gaze hardens from concern to disgust, and from disgust to hatred. “You didn’t answer my question,” she spits.

Something perverse in him makes him give the most combative possible response. “You want to know if I killed someone today? Yes, I killed someone today. I’m the kriffing Emperor of the galaxy, and sometimes that means dispensing justice.”

“You are so…!!” she’s ascending into a shout when they’re suddenly separated. His room is empty. She’ll have to process his assertion on her own, wherever she is.

 

If it makes her emotionally distressed enough, maybe he’ll get to see her again.


	7. A New Old Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is back again, and our antagonists geek out over shah-tezh (Palpatine's favorite game) while she tries to figure Kylo out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck Wendig's Aftermath: Empire's End has Palpatine deploying a chess metaphor involving an ancestor of dejarik, shah-tezh. The name is clearly related to the old Persian name for checkmate in chess, shahmat. Wendig doesn't specify the cultural origins of shah-tezh, but considering the history of the Star Wars galaxy and Palpatine's particular interests, I took a guess that it was supposed to be Sith. This is not meant to cast Persian culture in the role of an enemy. Europeans got chess from the Persians (though it might be from India originally), as well as many other cool things like myths of the struggle between light and dark. The page linked here:  
> https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2011/the-game-of-kings-medieval-ivory-chessmen-from-the-isle-of-lewis/exhibition-blog/game-of-kings/blog/shah-mat  
> has cool pictures of ancient Persian chess sets, but hit me up in the comments if you want recommendations of other cool things to check out about the history of chess or Persian culture!

Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days  
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:  
Hither and thither moves, and mates and slays,  
And one by one back in the closet lays  
— _The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam_

  
Kylo doesn’t have to wait long for Rey to rematerialize in his room over the bond. He’s not awake when she shifts into view. He’s stuck on the threshold of an uneasy sleep, dreaming of driving his saber again and again through a smoking corpse, the stench of smoking fur permeating his imagination.

Rey stumbles across the room, looking exhausted herself, and shakes him roughly by the shoulder. “Wake up, you hulking git,” she growls. “I can’t get any sleep when you’re projecting your beloved murder-fantasies.”

He shudders, her touch pulling him most of the way to alertness. When is the last time she initiated physical contact? Now the shudder is an involuntary shiver down his spine. He scowls.

“Believe what you will. I don’t need to justify myself.”

“The least you could do would be to avoid making me smell it,” Rey gripes. “Such a vivid dream. Did you really murder a wookiee wearing a vest emblazoned ‘Jake, Radar Technician,’ or is that some sort of hallucination?” She must be half-asleep, he thinks, too tired to stay angry; she’s slipping out of unpleasantness and into the companionable chat that should be their natural mode.

“No hallucination,” he is clipped, laconic. He wants to discuss anything but this. “I did execute an oddly dressed wookiee. He understood the rules and broke them. I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

Rey looks at him in distaste. He notices the red rims and bloodshot whites of her eyes. It’s a look he’s familiar with from his own mirror, and it twists something deep in his gut to see her suffering the same sort of turmoil and exhaustion.

“Could we…stop talking?” he offers. “Maybe play a game?”

She considers. “I’m not sure I’m up for dejarik tonight. I’m a bit tired of watching the pieces wrestle one another. It distracts me from the mechanics of the game.”

Kylo smiles, almost. “Yes, you’re usually so distracted that you beat me half the time we play. With no experience.”

“Come on,” she scoffs, “surely dark lords and emperors don’t spend all their time practicing silly board games? I get to play with my friends on the _Falcon_. I’m getting plenty of practice.”

“I learned to play on the _Falcon_ myself,” he points out gently. “When I was four.”

“Still.” It’s out of character for Rey. She’s not even making an attempt to win the argument.

“To your point, though,” Kylo muses, “Strategy games have been popular with ‘dark lords and emperors,’ as you put it, for eons. Emperor Palpatine was particularly fond of shah-tezh, the ancestor of dejarik.”

“Shah-tezh. Not a term I’m familiar with. What language is that?” Rey asks, surprising the emperor by pulling a flask out of her shawl-like overwrapping and taking a swig. He can smell the alcohol from here, so it must be something strong. If she’s drinking with him, maybe she’s not really that angry?

“It means the emperor is dead, in the old Sith tongue,” Kylo responds. “Shah-tezh is an even simpler and more elegant strategic primer than dejarik.”

“Hmm,” she looks thoughtful. “I’d like to try it, if you have a set.”

Kylo’s eyes light up. “As it happens, I found a holo describing the game and its rules among some possessions of my grandfather recently. I had a set fabricated. We could try?”

Rey nods diffidently, and Kylo gets up and strides across the room to a recessed shelving unit. He quickly extracts the set and returns to the table where Rey is sitting.

The board is square and the pieces don’t move themselves, so it seems more archaic than dejarik. The pieces are stylized, with most representing humanoids rather than the great diversity of species in the newer game. Kylo describes each piece’s allowable moves and the win conditions to Rey.

“Putting the Imperator under threat is called ‘check,’ and a threat he can’t escape from is a ‘check-tease,’ which wins the game. You can offer a draw or resign at any time.”

“’Check-tease?’ What odd terms.”

“I suppose they do sound odd when you first hear them,” Kylo admits. “It’s just a bastardization of ‘shah-tezh.’ So ‘tease’ is ‘dead.’”

They begin to play in silence. There’s a tension in the quiet that teeters somewhere north of “truce” and south of “comradeship.”

Rey is, as usual, a quick learner. The first game ends in a draw when Kylo points out that she has no legal moves available. He almost gets her with a closely planned sequence in the beginning of the second game, but she escapes with a fortunate pawn defense.

“What’s that opener?” she asks.

“It’s the Scholar’s Tease,” he explains. “The holo claimed it only shows up at the beginner’s level, but I imagine something similar could happen if the Imperator were stuck in a similar board position even without that particular series of moves.”

“But wouldn’t a strong player know to avoid that board position? The Imperator is constrained by his beasts, and attacked by the opposing dowager and vizier. Sacrificing my beast was basically my only defense to give the Imperator some freedom of movement.”

“That makes sense,” he considers. “I’ve memorized a lot of the openers, but without an opponent I hadn’t really thought about how these combinations would play out in reality.”

“I thought the whole point of board games for the dark lord was to learn strategic thinking?” She’s almost teasing, now, he thinks. Then he realizes that, in context, “tease” is a terrible pun, and his frown returns.

“I thought they were more for building character. Patience, equanimity, all those things you think I lack,” he accuses.

“What value could you possibly see in patience? I thought it was all ‘there is no peace, there is only passion.”

He looks at her quizzically, wondering where in the galaxy she of all people has stumbled across the Sith Code.

She snorts. “I do hear your thoughts sometimes, you know.” Of course.

“I’ve told you before that the Jedi Code is garbage. The Sith Code is too,” he begins.

Rey gives him an appraising look. “Kylo Ren thinks the Sith Code is bollocks? Well. I suppose the Sith truly are dead, then,” she giggles, for some impenetrable reason.

“Now all I have to do is convince you the Jedi Code is just as bad, and the theoretical part of letting the past die will be complete,” he sighs.

“It’s the practical part I had the problem with,” she nags. “The literal part. Where my people were literally dying.”

“Could we just play the game now?” He’s exasperated. They keep having this conversation. It’s like variations on a theme, the motifs of arcane traditional music. “You wanted to know what value dark lords could find in shah-tezh. I value its lessons in self-control, whether you believe me or not. I also enjoy the symbolic component. There is utter dedication to the emperor. You ever catch beasts setting up a resistance? No.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “I am very loyal to my ‘Imperator,’” she adds sarcastic emphasis, “also known as your _mother_. Speaking of family,” she goes on nonchalantly, inspiring him to make a blunder with his disciple, “We need to talk about something. I see you are still posting bounty for the apprehension of Luke Skywalker.”

Kylo swallows, and he can feel Rey watching his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. She will know if he lies, and he’s never wanted to lie to her. So he lets one of the key players of the Resistance know a secret he’s kept from the entire First Order.

He fixes her with his eyes so he can see her flinch when he speaks, in a low monotone, “I felt it too.”

She raises an eyebrow. She’s not going to give anything away first. He wonders how he’d be understanding her expression and her energy in the Force if he didn’t actually know already. If she has any tells when she’s hiding something.

He can’t tell. So he goes back to speaking his truth.

“Of course I felt it. He was the most powerful Force user in the galaxy, and he’d only just come back on line, as it were. Plus, he was one of my closest relatives. I felt it when he…left. It’s why I couldn’t get up off my knee and chase you up that damned ramp through our bond. The dice he left to mock me evanesced and I felt the Force realign again. Like when Snoke fell, but a different energy.”

Her brow furrows. “But if you could feel him in the Force, why didn’t you know he wasn’t really fighting you?”

Kylo tilts his head to the side and poses her a question. “Do I feel differently to you in the Force now than when we are really in the same room?”

She closes her eyes and reaches out. “No. You simply feel near. Present.”

“So, you can’t tell that I am actually unknown numbers of systems and hyperlanes away from you?”

She shakes her head silently. He can tell she’s still confused. Maybe he needs to explain the mechanics of Jedi projection?

“That’s not what I don’t understand,” she cuts him off before he can even begin to mansplain. “What I don’t understand is why you’re still hunting him.”

“It suits my purposes that Hux should have a mission to dedicate himself to. A mission that can cause no one alive any harm.”

“And you would prefer that because…” she drifts off. Maybe she’s starting to comprehend. He doesn’t get a chance to find out, because she disappears and he is once again alone.

******************************

 

The next time Kylo sees Rey she’s alone in her sparsely furnished bunk. He can see that the room is tiny, almost a cell. He wonders if the Resistance is that badly off or if it’s the style of life she prefers. Maybe there were reasons why a former AT-AT resident wouldn’t jump at the chance to rule the galaxy.

He pushes the thought aside. It’s pretty clear she rejected his offer because she simply detests him. She’s like a priestess of the Force, a chosen one, and he’s…a parricide. A murderer. She said it herself.

What looks almost like concern, but must be disgust, sparks in her eye. “Is something…” she trails off. He brushes it aside.

“I have a lot to think about. The coronation is next week,” he says curtly. But with his hands Kylo is offering the shah-tezh set. She begins to set up her pieces eagerly.

“Have you learned any new strategies?” she asks brightly. Apparently concern, disgust, whatever, it’s forgotten.

“You’re going to love this one,” his sarcasm carries an unfortunate note of Han Solo in the delivery, so he uses it rarely. “It’s called the Palpatine Maneuver.”

She scowls. “Shoot.”

There’s a black defense that aims to even the playing odds when white has developed a strong arrangement of beasts early in the game. The black Imperator is kept hidden behind the vizier and disciple while a knight that had unobtrusively worked up the side of the board decimates the beast structure from behind. Rey, playing white, has only one option to stop the knight — her outcast. She takes the knight, but it leaves her essential pieces open to attack. In short order his vizier and disciple have taken all her remaining capital pieces and checkteased the white imperator.

Her outcast is one move from checktease on his imperator, but it’s too late. Just as they bow their heads in the traditional etiquette of a game’s end, a comm beeps in Rey’s room. She answers the call and Kylo stiffens, hearing his mother’s voice for the first time in years. She’s reminding Rey of a meeting. Rey makes eye contact with him and her eyes sparkle with secret amusement as she speaks into the commlink. “I’ll be right there. I think I have the plan we need.”

She nods farewell at him and hurries from the room. He’s left alone in his room, which is also in a tiny cabin in the Resistance base. He has a few minutes to contemplate whether he ought to roam around and investigate before the connection flickers away.

He wonders what plan his mother needed. It reminds him that he needs to grill Hux on the plans for security at the coronation. Perhaps the two thoughts are not unrelated? He pokes at the bond, but Rey is controlling her thoughts very firmly in this meeting.

  
*************************

Meanwhile, in a tea room on Coruscant just round the corner from the lodgings reserved for the Knights of Ren, two patrons dressed in plain black attire sip their beverages in silence.

The man with the strictly cut flame-colored hair speaks first. “My lady, we have a problem.”

His counterpart quirks an eyebrow over her narrow, translucent mug. It is filled with a blood-red tisane and Hux thinks it might be a portent. He continues. “How would you feel about a promotion?”

“I am assuming you mean to Mistress of the Knights. And that the other promotion you have reserved to yourself?”

His acknowledgment is barely perceptible.

“I have taken vows,” she grates out. Hux does not know how such a high and melodious voice can sound so imposing and grim. He suffers her pause, beginning to fear that she might betray his trust to her Master.

“It is the way of the Sith to break their vows. I am willing to hear more of your plan. But not here.”

He returns to his fleet. Imperial management training emphasizes the importance of microresolutions. The greatest treason begins with avoiding notice in the smallest treason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to post this! I notice a lot of my subscriptions are quiet right now and I wonder if all the other Americans are just as bad as me about procrastinating on filing their taxes... So yeah, expect a flurry of chapters after the 17th!


	8. The Nana's Crown Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Kylo's coronation looms, the Resistance pops out of hiding for a quick heist. Not everyone gets away. Kylo plays for high stakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the incredibly long wait! The chapter is on the long side and hopefully will be enjoyable. Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you want something to listen to during this chapter, I recommend this Nina Simone classic (which happened to be one of the best things about the movie remake that inspires the title of this chapter): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH3Fx41Jpl4

Resistance operatives seem inclined to lie low in the weeks leading up to Kylo’s coronation. It’s only a couple days away now. He hasn’t seen Rey in days, hasn’t even had any new Wookiee prisoners to face off against in dejarik.

That is, until Hux arrives with the news that the First Order Museum of Naboo has been ransacked. One freighter laden with thieves and priceless artifacts got away successfully.

“I’m not familiar with the First Order Museum of Naboo,” Kylo cuts in. “Wasn’t aware the First Order had much of a history there, to be honest.”

“Well, Your Imperial Majesty, it was rebranded from the Royal Museum,” Hux seems a bit peeved that he’s been interrupted in the middle of his account of the heist.

Kylo knows the Royal Museum of Naboo. It houses that portrait of his grandmother, wearing the shawl Darth Vader had treasured a scrap from. It doesn’t have anything to do with Hux, or the First Order, or Snoke. Just memorials of the elected leaders of a proud people.

“Well, rebrand it again,” Kylo snaps. “I agree that Royal Museum takes too little account of the changes we are creating in the galaxy. But calling it the First Order Museum is a slap in the face to the local people, and we could use the support of a planet like Naboo.”

“What are we to call it, then?” Hux looks miffed.

“Call it the Naboo Heritage Museum or something. And no, this is not just about my grandparents. You can encourage the curator to add some exhibits on ordinary Naboo residents who exemplify our new galactic imperial values — order, excellence, not being Resistance scum, what have you.”

Hux nods, though he still doesn’t seem pleased. Kylo knows that the First Order is Hux’s baby, and no amount of calling it an Empire is going to make it anything else to the man. But Hux isn’t the most powerful being in the galaxy, and Hux isn’t the rightful heir of royalty from two planets.

“Speaking of your grandparents,” Hux resumes, clearing his throat, “you may be displeased to learn that certain Naberrie family treasures were among the items stolen.”

Kylo’s brow furrows. “Such as?”

“Your grandmother’s crowns, and everything else stored in the display case with them. Perhaps the Resistance thought you would wish to be crowned Emperor using a family heirloom, and this would disrupt your coronation?”

Despite his growing anger, Kylo snorts at the image of himself in one of Padme’s ornate tiaras. “No, Hux, that would be…unlikely. But you are correct that the selection of artifacts is likely intended to attract my attention. As it has. Now, did your incompetent troopers manage to apprehend any of the perpetrators, or are they all back off in whatever hovel they are calling a Resistance base these days?”

“Two other Resistance members who were trying to get away were apprehended when our fighters damaged their shuttle. I had them brought here and interrogated by my men,” Hux reports, “since you had asked not to be disturbed yesterday evening.”

Kylo feels his jaw clenching. He can tell Hux is inwardly congratulating himself at getting around his usual prohibition on bringing Resistance prisoners anywhere but directly to the Emperor. He controls himself.

“Your interpretation of my directions is flawed,” Kylo drawls. “There was no reason you could not have detained the prisoners for my examination this morning. But your failure will be the topic of another conversation. For now, tell me about the two prisoners.”

“Well,” says Hux, “there is a Wookiee and a girl.” He doesn’t have a moment to breathe before he is slammed across the room and up onto the wall with the Force. Kylo’s hand is outstretched in a cruel claw, pressing persistently on Hux’s trachea.

“What Wookiee. What girl. And what interrogation,” Kylo’s questions are intoned in a flat, low voice. His emotion is all flowing through his fingertips to make life difficult for Hux. Realizing that the annoying Moff isn’t going to answer his questions if he is dead, the emperor drops him unceremoniously.

*************************************  
Fortunately for Hux, when they burst into the cell block minutes later after Kylo has frogmarched him through the _Finalizer_ faster than he could have walked on his own, the girl is nobody. Literally. She isn’t even part of the Resistance. The troopers screwed up and apprehended one of the assistant curators of the First Order Museum of Naboo — a girl whose enthusiasm for the First Order and its handsome speech-giving general had gotten her hired, rather than any expertise with historical artifacts. The mix-up is clear to Hux’s interrogators, who stand awkwardly shifting from leg to leg, and it’s even clearer when Kylo dives into her mind to check the veracity of her story.

Kylo’s anger is subsiding faster than usual as he sees with relief that the girl is not Rey and the Wookiee is not Chewbacca. He was not ready to deal with them. But he’s also not very interested in watching this excuse for a curator moon over Hux. So he summons some troopers and explains that they are going to be delivering her back to her place of employment. He informs Hux that he is going to edit her memories so that there aren’t repercussions from the false imprisonment. Then he asks her to relax and, gently cupping the side of her head, begins to massage her memories with the Force. He corrects Hux’ public relations blunder, removing her awareness of her experiences for the last day. It’ll be like she suffered amnesia as a result of the heist. Maybe she’ll blame the Resistance.

Last but not least, he cleanses her consciousness of all positive feelings about Hux.

****************************************

The Wookiee, on the other hand, is an actual Resistance member. He’s a member of Chewie’s clan and is singing loudly about how he killed a dozen troopers in the firefight after the heist, allowing his friends to escape. Either no one warned him that the Emperor knows Shyriiwook, or he doesn’t care; for a Wookiee, Emygarrim is rather young and impulsive. He might be barely older than Kylo.

One of Hux’s interrogators pipes up now. “We weren’t able to get any information from this one, Your Imperial Majesty. Sedated him with enough for three men, and, well, you can see how he is. Shouting obscenities I’d wager.”

The man’s Coruscanti accent sounds blithely cheerful to Kylo despite the negative information it carries, and he momentarily can’t understand why. Then he realizes it’s because it makes him think of Rey. He glares at the junior officer stonily.

“So did none of you think to involve a Shyriiwook translator?”

The junior officer steals a quick glance at Hux. “Well, Your Imperial Majesty, the idea was broached. However, the Grand Moff indicated that you did not wish SXC-71 to be involved in any more interrogations. And the only two protocol droids on the _Finalizer_ that have Shyriiwook lexica are offline right now for, ah, repairs.”

Kylo frowns. He recalls why. He slashed two droids to pieces last week on the bridge during an argument with Hux. Most of the time these days he manages to refrain from property damage, but sometimes it is still the least problematic way to express his feelings. If he’d sliced Hux up it would have been less remediable.

“At ease,” he sighs. “Have the prisoner brought to my examination chamber in two hours.”

Kylo stalks off to his room for some meditative Shah-tezh study and a respite from his annoying underlings.

*******************************

Of course Rey pops up while he’s divesting himself of his cloak.

“Up for a game?” she chirps.

He exhales in a full-body sigh before turning around to face her. “Anything for you, milady,” he mimes an elaborate bow.

“Fabulous!” She does look happy. “Would you be willing to try a new game? There is one I have been very eager to try.”

Kylo answers “Yes” without hesitation.

“Wonderful, Ben! I think you will like it,” she says, fumbling about in a cabinet he can vaguely see in the corner of her bunk. The bond must have strengthened over time for him to be able to see so much of her surroundings; he wonders if he could move objects in her space.

Or perhaps the bond is stronger because _he_ is stronger. He’s often wondered how the Force distributes powers among the various Force-sensitives in the galaxy. Is it simply a matter of training, or are people like Rey and himself really unusually gifted? And when the most powerful Force user in the galaxy becomes one with the Force (or is sliced in half and annihilated, depending on the situation), does their power get reallocated to their successors? He and Rey certainly got promotions recently, but he doesn’t know if that came with more raw power. He’ll have to explore his limits again some time when Hux isn’t waiting to shoot him if he passes out.

Kylo shakes himself out of his reverie when he notices that Rey has almost finished setting up an elaborate, towering game set. The boards are square, like the demesne of Shah-tezh, but there are seven of them. Three ascend in an overlapping series while the smaller four are clipped precariously to the exterior corners of the upper and lower boards. A variety of sparkling crystalline pieces, in shapes reminscent of the Shah-tezh pantheon, litter the top and bottom boards.

Kylo looks at the set, entranced. He reaches out a finger to one of his pieces and thrills at the spark of energy he feels when he touches its shining surface. “Kyber,” he breathes in awe. “Where did you find such a thing?”

Actually, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he knows the answer to his question. In fact, he knows this set. Nimoy Chess is an obscure game from a mid-rim planet known for its university. Jedi often studied there in centuries past because of the reputation of the philosophy department for teaching a way of life rooted in logic and divested of all emotion. (Rumor had it that Sith studied there too, because of the reputation of the art department for curvaceous holographic-art models who encouraged a way of life rooted in passion, but that was neither here nor there.)

One very wealthy Jedi in the legendary past had crafted a Nimoy Chess set from kyber crystal. One very wealthy secret wife of a Jedi had purchased that set from an antiquities dealer as a gift for her husband, Anakin Skywalker. On her death and his disappearance, it had passed to the Naberrie family collection in the Royal Museum of Naboo. The very collection that has just been despoiled by the Resistance.

Kylo stifles his anger and annoyance and tries to be charming, because this is Rey and he doesn’t feel like spending the two hours until his interrogation of Emygarrim locked in a lightsaber battle that would destroy his bedroom.

“Bringing me back what is rightfully mine? What kind of a scavenger are you that you haven’t fenced this yet,” he teases.

“Rightfully yours?” Rey scoffs. “More like, rightfully your mum’s. And she knows I love board games, so she said I could have it.” He’s not terribly happy about the situation, but for now he will at least get to play games using it. That’s more than would happen if it were still in the museum where it belongs.

“Shall we play for a stake?” he asks.

“Depends,” Rey looks him straight in the eye. “If the stake involves you teaching me, me ruling by your side, or sexual slavery, then the wager can kriff right off.”

Kylo flushes pink imagining the many delightful wagers that would or would not run afoul of her restriction. “I just wanted to play for the set.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” she sighs, “next week. I still don’t understand the rules of the game.”

“Neither do I,” Kylo admits. “So yes, today is purely casual diversion.” They shake on it. “So, do you know the rules?”

Rey blushes. “I helped myself to a Guide to Nimoy Chess booklet from the museum gift shop,” she admits. “It lays out the basics, but it says that Jedi played the game a bit differently. I don’t suppose you have any more thorough primers in any of your libraries?”

“So you can go steal it, you mean?” he snarks. Rey rolls her eyes, which is a bit endearing, actually. “Yes and no. I don’t have any detailed guidebooks on Nimoy Chess. But Luke went through a phase where he thought that board games were a good thing for padawan to study. I don’t know if it’s really the rules or if he made it up, but in Luke’s version,” here Kylo reaches over to the board and removes the clips from the two lower mini-boards, “it was just another exercise in moving things with your mind. Or not moving them, as the case may be.” To prove his point, he levitates the two small squares perfectly in their positions at the corners of the lowest large board.

Rey cocks an eyebrow, then accepts the challenge; she removes the clips from the upper mini-boards and levitates them. One wobbles slightly as she sets it in place, but momentarily both are as perfectly still as Kylo’s pair. “I suppose the real trick comes when we have to adjust them to different positions?”

“Quite,” he responds. “First move is to you, since you’ve never played before.”

They play a few dozen moves without interruption. Rey giggles when she accidentally crashes one of the floating boards into Kylo’s hand while he’s moving a piece. He’s started to try to explain the little he remembers of Nimoy Chess strategy when they hear a knock on a door.

Both heads turn, suddenly alert in their separate spaces. The knock repeats, and then a voice calls out.

“Rey? Are you in there?”

“Yes, just a minute, Finn!” she answers back, her voice pitched high with nervousness. Finn—the Traitor—seems not to hear, though, because the door slams open suddenly.

“Ooh, you’ve got the chess set out!” he exclaims delightedly, striding into the room. Kylo feels a strange and sudden mixture of feelings wash over him. On the one hand, he’s incredibly relieved that the Traitor doesn’t seem to have any awareness of his presence. Killing Rey’s friend in her bedroom would probably not be very well received, were it to become necessary. On the other hand, he’s a bit jealous. He just has to sit here while she pays attention to this other man.

Spitefully, Kylo begins floating his two movable mini-boards around in a random pattern.

“Whoa, Rey, are you controlling the board with the Force?” Finn asks, astounded. “Showing off a bit, eh?” He smiles and gives her a hug. Kylo, discomfited, lets the boards drop to the floor.

“Guess I distracted you a bit, huh, Peanut?” Finn laughs. “Let’s go get some food.”

“That sounds nice,” Rey responds, directing a pointed look at Kylo. She gently floats her two boards down to the ground, then turns to go.

She only makes it a step before the connection fizzles out.

Kylo is very, very ready to lay the smack down on one insolent young Wookiee.

**********************************

When Kylo sits down opposite Emygarrim, the room is charged with foreboding energy. Hux has apparently taken the opportunity to redecorate over the last few days, and shimmering silver banners hang from the walls in a few places, adorned with the First Order emblem.

If the intention is to intimidate, however, the decor of Snoke’s former audience chamber has nothing on the two players facing off across the dejarik board at the center of the room. On one side, the Wookiee, more than seven feet tall and covered in luxuriant fur. Emygarrim is in the prime of youth, strong and confident despite his capitivity. He has agreed to Kylo’s stipulations and is freed of his bonds.”

On the other side of the table, the most powerful man in the galaxy. Kylo Ren, in no way small for a human, is emanating waves of anger and annoyance. The initial allocation of pieces has not gone in his favor. Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, the young emperor has a superstitious attachment to Grimtaash. His play is always better when he has the Alderaanian creature on his side.

Emygarrim plays well. Kylo begins to suspect that this Wookiee, at least, doesn’t usually win games by ripping people’s arms off. Bringing his anger under control, Kylo addresses his opponent.

“So young, and yet so degenerate. What does a member of Chewie’s clan get out of raiding museums? I would think there would be fights that could bring more glory to your people.”

The Wookiee moves his pieces before fixing Kylo with a glare. _“Whatever hinders the First Order brings glory to the Resistance. Helping General Organa and the Resistance brings glory to my people,”_ he warbles.

Kylo clears his throat a few times and takes a deep breath. _“Don’t mention my mother, carpetface,”_ he yowls in passable Shyriiwook. No one else in the room can understand them, and it’s hard to say who looks the most surprised: Hux or Emygarrim.

The shocked Wookiee responds first. _“I have never met a human who could speak even a word of my language before,”_ he comments while Kylo is directing his pieces, killing the Grimtaash vindictively. _“But if General Organa is your mother, that must mean you are General Solo’s son, which could explain it.”_ He trails off for a moment. _“General Solo’s son is the leader of the First Order? Wow, your family is incredibly messed up.”_

“You don’t even know the half of it, I’d wager,” Kylo replies in Basic, looking irritable. His assault on Emygarrim’s Grimtaash had apparently been poorly defended, because the Wookiee has killed two of his remaining pieces. It is extremely difficult to win when you have only one piece to the opponent’s three. Was he unduly distracted by the conversation, or simply not invested enough in making this creature pay for his assault on the museum?

Within minutes it is all over. Emygarrim folds his hairy arms across his chest smugly, earning a cold glare from Kylo. An undercurrent of nervous muttering passes among the First Order officers stationed at the sides of the room. Then, slowly, the Wookiee stands up.

 _“I have won, which by the agreement means you do not get to execute me. And I get to make a request. I wish to go free. Give me a pod to the nearest inhabited planet — and my weapons back, it’s only fair.”_ His tone is neutral, but the emperor is fuming opposite him. No prisoner gets to address Kylo Ren in this way.

The black-clad man springs to his feet, snarling. “That doesn’t sound much like a request, Wookiee.” He switches into Shyriiwook for emphasis while drawing out his saber hilt. _“You will get what I wish to give you, when I wish to give it to you. It may be I want to give you a trip to whatever afterlife you believe in.”_

The saber ignites, suddenly. The flickering red light reflects from the Wookiee’s eyes as he stares at it, eyes narrowed, unflinching. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nimoy Chess" is, of course, Star Trek chess. Here's its first appearance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEnxVwppE9M And obviously, there is no planet Nimoy. I just want to get as many cool games in this fic as possible, whether they are real games or fictional ones.


	9. Double-Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux's POV returns. He has many pans in the fire in the run-up to the coronation. Who will win Best Plotter? Hux, Ren, and the Resistance are all in the running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: Rey does make an appearance in this chapter, though Hux doesn't know it. Can you spot when she appears and disappears?

This…was unexpected. It had probably occurred to Hux, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Ren could lose to a prisoner. He doesn’t want to imagine the resultant reaction. This could get messy.

The Wookiee is standing slowly from the table and growling something incomprehensible. What he says clearly doesn’t defuse the situation, because the emperor looks irate. He stands suddenly, knocking his chair to the floor with a crash.

“That doesn’t sound much like a request, Wookiee,” he snarls, before emitting a series of bizarre noises. Whatever Hux might have thought about Ren’s Force powers, they were definitely not as weird as this newly discovered skill. Before the Moff has much time to be disturbed, however, the situation takes a turn for the worse.

A deep, erratic hum fills the air as the emperor suddenly ignites his lightsaber. The prisoner is surprisingly calm, not moving a muscle as hot plasma death stares him in the face. For himself, Hux is certainly trembling. Part of it is nerves: if the Wookiee is quick, he could do a lot of damage in the seconds before the inevitable, in the form of Kylo Ren, puts an end to him. The greater part is excitement. Hux has never fully concealed just how thrilling he finds the extermination of his enemies, especially when they are lesser beings and Resistance scum.

Ren takes one step, then two, until he is barely inches away from the Wookiee. You’d think that looking straight up into someone’s eyes would put you in a position of weakness, but Hux knows that the power dynamic here is different. Ren holds his saber back and to the side, awaiting the moment his anger is inflamed, when he will flash it forward in a perfect, devastating arc to annihilate his enemy.

The saber hums.

Man and Wookiee stare at one another.

The moment never comes.

When Ren pivots on his heel and suddenly, brutally slashes the lightsaber through the dejarik board, scoring the heavy table it rests on, there’s a collective gasp in the room. No one seems to understand quite what’s going on, but the Wookiee is still alive, in fact everyone is still alive, and the only person who seems totally cool and collected is, in fact, Emygarrim himself. He yowls briefly, and Hux thinks it might sound happy, but of course he can’t be sure.

Hux might not understand the emperor, but that is an emperor’s prerogative.

So when he extinguishes his saber and motions Hux to him brusquely, Hux comes.

“Emygarrim is a worthy opponent. I was distracted from my best play, but he defeated me fairly. And he conducted himself with courage,” Ren adds. “Therefore, I have decided to grant his request. He will be permitted his freedom. Rather than jettisoning him in an escape pod, however, I believe we can go so far as to return him to his home planet of Kashyyyk.”

“Yes sir?” Hux nods, though he is both put out and confused by the command. Winning a game of dejarik is no reason to grant absolution for the crimes of Resistance members.

“Please identify two individuals who can escort this Wookiee to Kashyyyk,” the emperor continues. “I understand if it is necessary for their safety for him to be partially or fully sedated when they release him. However, it is essential that he make it home unharmed. Am I clear?”

“As kyber, Your Imperial Majesty,” Hux grumbles, standing at attention.

**************************

Hux’s priorities when selecting the crew members who are to escort Emygarrim back to Kashyyyk are not, perhaps, aligned with the emperor’s expectations. He believes that he can manage this mission in accordance with his own priorities, not the emperor’s, if he chooses individuals with the correct mental characteristics and backgrounds.

His first choice is SXC-71. The droid has a high level of dedication to him (for a variety of reasons) and is not susceptible to Ren’s mind invasions. As long as Hux can wipe her short-term memory before Ren downloads it, she shouldn’t give anything away.

The second member of the crack Wookiee export team is selected for his transience. Analyst Tobias Olmoc only joined the _Finalizer_ ’s crew after the Battle of Crait. He’s a cyborg with neuro-atypical communication protocols, never speaking but preferring to communicate with the star destroyer’s mainframe. Hux has been impressed by Olmoc’s incisive and demonstrably correct analysis of the likelihood that Resistance recruiting operations were ongoing in a number of galactic metropolises. The analyst does not ask questions, and carries out directions to the letter. He should be resistant to Force tricks, but if Hux has any doubts he will just make him disappear. No one on the _Finalizer_ will miss someone they worked with for less than two months; he’ll just claim Olmoc returned to the First Order intelligence outpost he had been sent over from.

The first step is to give the two operatives their official instructions—the emperor’s instructions. Hux shows them the shuttle with its escape pod. The ship has seen better days, but it would be out of character for Hux to give a Wookiee anything but the worst transportation. He indicates where the Wookiee will travel. Olmoc will pilot the shuttle while SXC-71 monitors the prisoner. In the event that he emerges from sedation, she is to give him an additional dose of sedative. They will load him into the escape pod upon reaching Kashyyyk and send him safely into the atmosphere. It will be up to him to recover from the sedative, exit the pod and make contact with his people. The emperor agrees that if the pod lands in a swamp or among Wookiees who happen not to like Emygarrim, it’s not the First Order’s problem.

Hux wishes he could ensure that Emygarrim landed in a swamp inhabited by his enemies, but that solution has too low a probability of success. He needs something that is guaranteed to prevent this powerful Resistance fighter rejoining his rebellion, armed with intelligence about the First Order gained while he was a prisoner. It will not be a harmful side effect if he also undermines any good will Ren might be secretly attempting to curry with Wookiees or Resistance leaders by refraining from executing a prisoner. That’s why he adds a final instruction for SXC-71, privately.

“Keep this concealed in the shuttle,” Hux instructs, handing over a syringe filled with a bright orange fluid. “Administer it to the Wookiee directly before placing him in the escape pod on Kashyyyk. It is an additional sedative to ensure that my operatives do not come to any harm in the course of this mission. I do not think Ren is sufficiently careful of your safety.”

“Thank you, Master,” SXC-71 intones, taking the syringe. “I believe we are now fully prepared for our mission.”

“The prisoner will be delivered momentarily,” Hux responds before leaving the hangar.

***********************************

After the evening meal, Hux is tired of wondering where Ren is. He decides to beard the lion in his den and deliver the report he was instructed to prepare on the security precautions for the coronation.

Hux knocks sharply and is admitted to the emperor’s chambers a minute later. As usual, Ren sits beside a table bearing several dejarik sets with games in various states of completion. At another table, a shah-tezh demesne is readied for play next to an empty space.

“I’ve come to report on the security precautions established for your coronation,” Hux announces.

“Is that so?” the emperor asks in a bored voice, moving his dejarik pieces before staring off into the middle of the room, an odd smile ghosting his lips. “I’m sure we shall be interested to hear all about it.”

The man is infuriating enough without the royal “we,” Hux grumbles internally, trying to suppress his traitorous thoughts before the Force user catches a whiff of them. He calls up his report on the holoprojector, beginning to outline where First Order forces will be stationed in Coruscant. There will be a large uniformed presence, supplemented by a smaller but no less important undercover force.

Ren seems briefly interested in discussing the placement of these hidden operatives, but most of his attention is directed to his games of dejarik. The man is infuriating. Hux takes a deep breath while the second part of his presentation is loading and looks over at the game boards. He could swear the droid mode light isn’t even on, but the opposing pieces move all the same. Is the emperor using the Force to move them and play dejarik against himself? That’s not even a reasonable strategic exercise. There would be no purpose whatever to solo dejarik other than to demonstrate how little he cares for what Hux has to say. The man is _beyond_ infuriating.

Hux’s next presentation segment focuses on incident preparedness. He has set his analysts to assessing the most likely possible terrorist incidents that the Resistance or other agents of chaos could perpetrate, and then planning suitable responses to each.

Somewhere around the third incident plan the dejarik pieces stop moving and Ren finally starts paying attention. He looks Hux directly in the eye and asks incisive questions about the planned response to a solo X-wing attack, about how the troops have been instructed to respond if large crowds are expressing anti-imperial sentiment, and—of course—about how Resistance prisoners will be handled.

Hux notes down the emperor’s preferences on a datapad, silently deciding whether each item is worth complying with or will be conveniently forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The final item of discussion is Ren’s own personal security detail. “I wish to add a platoon of stormtroopers in addition to the Knights, who will of course be staying with you.”

“No.”

“No stormtroopers? Surely you understand the importance of safeguarding the imperial person?”

“No stormtroopers. And no Knights.”

Startled, Hux begins to interrupt, but is silenced by a sudden tight feeling in his throat.

“No. You will listen to me,” the emperor speaks softly, but with great conviction. “I deeply appreciate the effort you have made to secure appropriate accommodation for my Knights, and I will certainly spend time with them there training and preparing for the ceremony.”

Hux nods.

“However, where I sleep will be none of your concern. As you know, we have Resistance spies on this very ship, thanks to your shoddy hiring practices. I do not wish to be murdered in my sleep, and even the presence of the Knights cannot guarantee my safety.”

Freed to speak again, Hux sputters in confusion. “But this is unheard of!”

“No, it isn’t,” Ren responds. “Snoke never told both of us at the same time what system he was in.”

“I thought you wished not to emulate Snoke?” Hux spits back.

“I don’t. But you may recall that even when Snoke was Supreme Leader, I have conducted my affairs my own way when on Coruscant.”

“I had been informed that the Master of the Knights of Ren preferred to reside on his shuttle when visiting Coruscant. You must know that is no longer a sufficiently secure choice.”

“Obviously not. But if if would alleviate your concern to believe that you know where I am, I can assure you that I do not sleep on my shuttle.”

“Where, then?” Hux persists. The choking hasn’t returned, and for his plans to go smoothly he really needs to know where the emperor is at all times.

“Well, I will tell you as much as I told Snoke. I don’t suppose you need to know more than our master did?” Ren raises an eyebrow, inspiring curt acquiescence from Hux. “Coruscant is home to many…houses of pleasure. I have an arrangement with the owner of one of the most exclusive. She maintains my anonymity and has a small enough staff that I am able to scan all of their minds. I am therefore more certain of the absence of Resistance assassins at her establishment than anywhere you can provide me with accommodations, Hux.”

Hux swallows, unsure how to amalgamate this knowledge with his prior picture of Ren as a sort of psychotic monk. Who knew that every time Lord Ren was “sleeping on his shuttle” he had actually been disporting himself at one of Coruscant’s most elite bordellos? Hux’s mind begins to wander as he tries to work out which one. It couldn’t be one of his own two favourites, but that doesn’t rule out much. And given Ren’s ridiculous upbringing, the Grand Moff has to admit that it is possible that there exist houses of pleasure so exclusive that he has not yet visited them. Or perhaps Ren prefers an establishment staffed by only girls or only boys. Hux prefers to have variety on offer.

The whole train of thought is irritating.

“Thank you for confiding as much,” Hux bows curtly. “I regret that I am unable to provide the level of security you desire on Coruscant, but it is helpful to know that you trust me this far. We will certainly work together with the Knights around the actual ceremonies.”

“That is certain,” the emperor agrees, dismissing him.

*********************************

Hux checks in with SXC-71 and Analyst Olmoc via holocall after they report an uneventful arrival in orbit around Kashyyyk. Apparently the Resistance is so short-staffed, they cannot even manage basic defensive measures to prevent First Order ships approaching a reliably allied planet.

“Is everything in order?” he demands brusquely.

“Quite so,” answers SXC-71. She holds up an empty syringe to the holocamera. “We have administered the additional sedative and are preparing to jettison the escape pod with the prisoner aboard.”

“Do so. You have completed your mission and must report to me personally as soon as you return to the _Finalizer_.”

“Yes sir,” the droid and cyborg nod in unison, before cutting the transmission. Hux is just glad he didn’t have to see the Wookiee. Though how the Wookiee looks now is undoubtedly better than how he will look ten minutes from now, after the fatal nerve agent he was just injected with has taken effect.

Hux retires to his chambers to decrypt the latest private transmission from Duzile Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the big questions I'm sure we've all struggled with is the extent to involve Leia's character in post-TLJ stories given the passing of Carrie Fisher. I initially wanted to write this in a way that could come true on the screen: in other words, keep Leia pretty much out of it. But at the same time she seems to be so essential for giving meaning to any redemption to Kylo Ren. Plus she's just a kick-ass character and the figure who inspired my love for Star Wars as a kid. So, I'm inclined to write her in a few scenes. (Yes, there will eventually be Resistance POV chapters--soon! When they come out of hiding!) How does that sound to you, my lovely readers?


End file.
